


Dinner Date

by Evil_Little_Dog



Category: Burn Notice
Genre: Community: comment_fic, F/M, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-10
Updated: 2013-09-10
Packaged: 2017-12-26 06:12:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/962548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evil_Little_Dog/pseuds/Evil_Little_Dog
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Summary:  Fiona's bored with their double date. <br/>Disclaimer:  I do not own anything of this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dinner Date

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SamuelJames](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SamuelJames/gifts).



Fiona gritted her teeth as she headed for the women’s room. She could not believe the idiocy of these men. Well, certainly Sam, but not Michael! Sam was an idiot, plain and simple. And it had certainly been his idea for this little double-date of theirs – Michael and her and Sam and Elsa. 

Oh, it wasn’t that Elsa wasn’t charming, because she was, but she didn’t really have any clue what any of them did in their real lives. She asked about children – none. She asked about homes – none. She asked about Fiona’s favorite flower (she’d almost considered saying, “The lovely bloom of an explosion,” but Sam shot her a wide-eyed look over the table, and she’d replied, “Oh, the hibiscus!” How in the world was she to know Elsa loved the stupid things, and wanted to talk about different strains and types and what Fiona’s favorite colors were? 

Fiona reached for her mobile, hitting Michael’s speed dial number once she was in the women’s room. It rang twice and Michael said, in his sickeningly sweet voice he used when he was trying to keep a mark from realizing he was talking to someone other than who he said. “Yes, Mom?” 

Her eyes narrowed at the implication she was Madeline, but she’d let it pass this time. “Michael. I am ready to leave. Now.” 

He chuckled. “Mom, I’m out on a dinner date with Fiona.” 

“Now, Michael, or I swear I’ll blow something up just to get out of the restaurant.” 

“Really? The dishwasher’s overflowing?” 

“Yes, Michael, it is. Make your excuses, and I’ll meet you at the table.” 

“Right, Ma, I’ll be right there. See you soon.” 

The ‘click’ heralded the connection being broken. Fiona smiled at her reflection in the mirror, tucking her mobile in her clutch. A little threat always made her boys so much easier to work with.


End file.
